Paragon to Pavement 11
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon at $5 or more Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
To view this content, you must be a member of ZFighter18’s Patreon Unlock with PatreonAlready a qualifying Patreon member? Refresh to access this content.
Blonde Blazer’s boots click-clacked down the hallway, the heavy door to the Records Room clicking shut barely a few seconds after she left it behind. The sudden vacuum she left behind in the space was filled almost immediately with the low sixty-hertz whine of the CRT monitor straight out of the eighties, accompanied by the…
“Now, I’m not one to mince words…” “You? Mince words?” Robert Robertson III had a way with words of his own, something Blonde Blazer was beginning to realize; at least, now that she was sober. “I’d be surprised if you bothered to dice them.” That way just happened to be extremely acerbic and nonchalant, but…
The skillet popped and sizzled, hot little spits of violent grease dancing on his palm. The sausage links curled as he watched the half-frozen things brown and shrink the longer it sat there. Let it burn. His other hand spun a fork in the other bowl, eggs swirled up until it was a perfect golden…